Before the night is over
by Starrylizard
Summary: Then all that was left was more coffee, more Jack, and a lot of old stories, because there was no way anyone was ready to try and sleep. Set directly after the events of AHBL pt2. Gen or BobbyEllen


This has been sitting in my computer since shortly after I watched the season 2 finale. I just started typing and this is what appeared. I hadn't posted it because I wasn't sure it would stand alone as a one-shot, but the lovely Rinne assures me it's fine. As always, any and all comments are welcomed. Please don't be shy. :)

Title: Before the Night is Over

Author: Starrylizard

Fandom: Supernatural

Rating/Warnings: Teen, Set after the S2 finale, Gen (Bobby/Ellen)

Words: 657

Summary: _Then all that was left was more coffee, more Jack, and a lot of old stories, because there was no way anyone was ready to try and sleep._ Set directly after the events of AHBL pt2.

Notes: Thanks to Rinne for the beta.

Bobby had known something big was coming. Something had been brewing for a long while now – twenty-three years at least, probably longer – but if anyone had asked him what was coming he never would have guessed the events of the last two days. They buried the dead right there in the old cowboy graveyard, packed up their things, and, by unspoken agreement, headed back to his place. John's boys took the Impala; Ellen rode with him.

Ellen was quiet in the passenger seat, her eyes staring unfocussed out the window, one foot up on the dash so her arm could rest across her knee, and he chose to leave her be. There was a lot to think about, after all: people and places lost, others gained, and it wasn't until they were nearing the junkyard of cars that surrounded his place that she finally spoke.

"It's been a hell of a night, Bobby." Ellen turned her dark eyes on him, quirked a smile and chuckled deep in her throat.

"That it has," he answered, returning the smile and sharing in the laughter that rose to something slightly hysterical, before he killed the engine and they trudged their way inside.

That night they sat around Bobby's kitchen talking and drinking coffee that was heavily laced with the good stuff. They'd patched up their hurts, Sam and Dean taking care of each other - Dean quietly bitching at his brother as Sam bitched right on back. Ellen had poked at Bobby until he'd finally slipped off his shirt and let her clean and cover the scratches he'd somehow managed to get during the night and then, to his surprise, she'd lifted her own shirt enough to prove she was mostly unharmed by the night's events.

Then all that was left was more coffee, more Jack, and a lot of old stories, because there was no way anyone was ready to try and sleep. It was mostly Ellen and Bobby that did the talking – filling the room with stories of John Winchester as they'd known him years ago. Ellen related the times when Bill and John had hunted together, gotten blind drunk at the Road House, and once when John had hit on a fellow hunter. Ellen claimed she'd rescued him from a rather painful hold the lady had had on him and all three guys winced in sympathy. Bobby remembered the man who had shown up on his door step, two kids trailing behind him, desperate to learn about demons. "Stubborn old bastard," Bobby muttered and Sam had waved his drink with an "Amen to that!"

Dean just smiled and listened, as if lost in his own memories, his head drooping lower and lower until he was snoring softly onto his arms where they rested on the table. Sam stood then and retrieved the sleeping bags and bed rolls before poking his brother into helping him spread them by the fire. Dean was asleep again in moments, but Ellen could see the glitter of Sam's eyes as he stared into space. Morning would come in a few hours.

"You can take the spare room, Ellen. It's not grand…"

"But you know it's fine with me," Ellen finished for him. "Thank you, Bobby."

They slipped the coffee mugs into the sink, a comfortable silence descending as they headed to bed.

To say a lot had happened in the last few days was the understatement of the year, so maybe Bobby should have been less surprised when, a short while later, Ellen had slipped between the sheets and tucked her body against his, warm and feminine and soft.

"You okay?" he asked, voice sleep roughened.

"Yeah. Do you mind?"

"No."

He felt her nod against his t-shirt where she rested her head, the movement causing her hair to tickle the whiskers at his chin. Bobby pulled her closer with one arm around her waist, and they finally found sleep.


End file.
